Chapter Text
ℓσυιѕ тσмℓιηѕση P.O.V
It's no surprise that Louis Tomlinson is a twink. Everyone knows this, and everyone's so desperately wants a piece of that prized apple bottom. However, because Louis is a twink not-at-heart, the truth of what females think about him is undeniable: they fantasize him with other boys - dream of watching the tiny, smart-mouthed boy receiving what that large, plump bum yearns for, even though Louis may not.
Yes, Louis is straight - or so he wishes he could be. Females are not necessarily attracted to him (even as they flock him mercilessly with goo-goo eyes); again, they simply just fantasize him with another large, tanned and robust boy. 'Course, it's just what hormonal females like to do, yes? They enjoy the idea of two men together... but a twink and a man? -Oh, yes. It can't possibly get any better than that.... then again, it is sweetening to watch a boy who's mouth rolls out a continuous stream of impudent and saucy language daily to get a taste of something that will indeed shush the boy's sass with whimpers and submitting puppy moans.
Oh, wouldn't that be nice...
It's not know why, but Mr. Tomlinson seems to possess the strange ability to turn even a straight man gay with just one look. 'Course, these males very often not do want to admit their abrupt and frightening lust for the small boy, but it's just unavoidable. The only males who tend to not desire the beany boy are his close pals; though, it's always important to keep a sharp eye peeled at all times just in case, especially when you have a deviously carnal body like Louis does.
Sometimes (actually most of the time), Louis would like to saw off this bum of his. It's just... too big! It jiggles when he does nearly anything vigorous! When he runs, when he jumps - just anything! The only time when he feels secure is when he's walking or sitting because it seems at times when he's not walking or sitting that Louis' bum is radiating the sweet juices of an easily mistakable veneral idea.
Even for a tiny, dainty boy like himself, he's not that into submission. He's actually rather sassy, and it bugs him whenever people have the audacity to tell him to package back his venom. It's in his nature - since when has Louis ever listened to what others had told him to do? He's a stubborn mull and proud of it - end of story.
• ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ •
It's the day after Louis' last exam when his buddy, Stan, asks him to hang out after school. Stans his best pal - BFFs since Pre-K, if you may. To make a long story short, Louis trusts Stan, and besides, who doesn't feel like partying after exams?
One thing Louis has always known about Stan is how filthy rich he is. Like, this boy is bleeding money. It's not that Louis cares a whole lot whether his best friend had a monumental house or buys nearly everything for Louis, but that it's just one of those things that sticks out there.
The January air is cold and crisp and nips at Louis' skin as the two trudge down the road of lining mansions towards Stan's. The snow has been picking up lately, consequently raising the air to frightening chilly levels, so it only makes sense that Louis dolls up in his woolly russet scarf and black jacket to keep him decently warm - simply for the timing being. Eventually it will be frigid, and because Louis' body is (unfortunately) dainty and lean, he will have to suffer through layers of coats and scarves just to keep him from freezing to death.
Louis peers up at Stan's family sign above the entrance door, marveling at the real gold block before accepting Stan's invitation in as his best friend graciously holds the door ajar for him.
The winter protection is torn off immediately, unnecessary in this new toasty atmosphere. Lingering snow clumps sprinkle across the rug as Louis pads around for a moment before placing his boots on the shoe rack ("Keep the rack clean," Stan would say, "we can't have snow dribbling into others shoes, now can we?").
"Want some hot chocolate?" Stan asks, standing host by the kitchen's entrance, wheeled around to face Louis for the quick question.
Louis nods, and watches as Stan disappears around the corner. With nervous steps (and he doesn't know why), Louis enters the living room and plops down on the beautiful, black leather sofa. Stan has given him permission to just turn the Flat Screen TV on whenever, so it's Louis privilege to fish around the channels for "Spongebob Squarepants."
Butterflies are fiesty in his gut... and it perplexes him. Perhaps it's the aftermath of switching into so drastically different atmospheres at once, causing his body to go into a mild shock, or perhaps it was the rancid chicken he ate for lunch today that's coming back to haunt him.... or perhaps it was the dark miscief shadowing Stan's eyes that promised his inevitable (and unknown) intentions with Louis.
It seems all a bit odd, but when Stan returns with two steaming-hot mugs of hot chocolate, Louis' tummy does aggressive summersaults and backflips - something that's very hard to miss. Finding his instincts' edgy beliefs ridiculous, Louis shoves them away, choosing to ignore them - for now.
Patrick and Spongebob guffaw in the background as the hot liquid burns Louis' lips. Strangely, he can feel his best friend's eyes on him, and even strangely-er than that, Louis fidgets uncomfortably, surreptitiously scooting an inch away from him.
What's happening?
From the corner of Louis' eye, he observes as Stan rolls and knits his fingers together assiduously, though there's an unmistakable hint of agitation that seeps into the mix of emotions stewing from the boy. Does he want to ask me something? Louis wonder, is that what this is all about? Still, that doesn't explain why Louis is suddenly nervous.
Louis, deciding to take a break from the hissing singes from the hot chocolate, places the mug down gently on the glass table. Then, as he leans back against the leathery cushions, he's abruptly shot down onto his back by a pouncing force that addles his brain for a second.
Louis blinks up, startled at first to see Stan hovering over him, eyes dark with something Louis can't comprehend, though with the looming stare, Louis figures immediately that whatever is about to happen is not good. Stan looks almost... possessed with the way he ogles Louis, drinking in the sight below him, growling and tightening his grip on Louis' wrists when the boy attmpts to squirm away.
"Stan- !"
Louis' cut off when teeth suddenly introduce themselves to his neck. The teeth -Stan's teeth- are vicious in their brawling attempt to chew up and mark Louis' skin. Louis doesn't know how he knows that, but something in him just knows that Stan is trying to 'claim him.' Call it primitive instincts... but... Stan is straight. He's never had any sort of sexual interest in Louis before - ever!
.... Or, did he?
"Stan, no!" Louis tries to protest, struggling against his friend, but to no avail. Stan is not only rich, but he's bloody strong, too. Curse these dainty biceps... and this feminine body, Louis castigates as he whimpers helplessly.
Stan then switches methods and begins licking Louis, starting with his neck (both sides), his collarbones, his shoulders, then -due to clothing coverage (for which Louis very thankful for)- Stan growls a very sexually frustrated growl. Is it sexually frustrated, or just a I-will-not-stand-for-this growl? Nevertheless, it's very defiant, and causes Louis to shudder tensely.
To Louis' distaste, Stan literally shreds open Louis' shirt with only small resitance from the fabric and instantly begins licking Louis' nipples, chest, and just anywhere he can possibly find skin.
"S-Stan- !" Louis gasps. "What the HELL?!"
He attempts to buck up his hips in hopes to throw the boy above him, but it barely hinders Stan's molesting. Louis shrieks, squirming some more, not ready to surrender just yet, though the simple thought of giving into sexual harrassment is foul and demeaning. What is he even doing? Louis thinks, as he feels Stan's wet, hot tongue on his hipbones, lathering them with his saliva. Then the tiny, yet audible chime of Louis' mysterious instincts informs him that Stan must be scenting him. But what for? Louis nearly cries.
... For sex.
Louis then bucks his hips fiercely, projecting Stan off balance for a split second - a split second that Louis immediately takes advantage of. Using his thick thighs, Louis swathes them around Stan's neck, trapping him, then hastily (using all his might) flings the boy off his wet body. Stan lingers, growling for a moment in his protest, then inevitably tumbles to the floor.
Then Louis runs.
He runs right to the door, not caring about his clothes - just focused on getting the hell outta here! But it's locked. The freaking door is locked! Stan must've forsaw this. He bloody locked the door on me, Louis mentally screams, very close to tears.
Unfortunately, Louis doesn't have time to try for the back door (or a window) in this house because a body is soon pressed up against his back, pancaking Louis against the door. He never even heard the footsteps coming...
Louis yelps for help, though it's obvious nobody else is here, so he simply tries again to struggle, but it seems that Stan has learned about Louis' methods and straddles him, paralyzing his movements with barely any space to offer in the tight sandwich between the traitor door and his even worse traitor best friend. Louis whimpers when he feels Stan's hot, wet mouth on his ear.
"Gonna tear you open, Lou," Stan whispers sexually to him, though it rolls disgust in Louis' stomach, "gonna make sure our classmates never look at you again... seen how they wanna have their way with you, Lou, but only I can do that... only I can have you."
"Please, no, Stan," Louis pleads, finally releasing the watergates, "I don't want it."
Stan reamins unaffected. "Gonna fill you up, bestie... you're never gonna leave... not gonna let you." He delivers a sploppy kiss to Louis ear, causing the smaller boy to sob harder. "Gonna make you like it, my sexy Loubear," he then growls out - gravelly and frustrated. He forcefully bites Louis' ear, the gentleness vanished with sexual aggressive, and Louis makes the pain known.
Then something happens - something neither Louis nor Stan intended - something Louis very likely would never forget, yet it's something that happens so quick and without Louis' guidance that seems more like a blur than an actual memory. Louis' body moves so suddenly and so... unauthorized that it almost scares him in the process. It's hard to visualize, but from what Louis can see, he's miracuously wormed out of Stan's grasp and... latched onto the boy's neck with his legs and just perches there.
Louis sees into the boy's terrified eyes for just a split moment, reluctantly absorbs the genuine fear of his best friend just before clutching either side of his head, and -with his sudden new-found strength- Louis (without say) twists and yanks, kinda like how one would pop an apple off its stem, but this time it's not an apple - it's his best friend's head.
Stan's body twitches just before collapsing to the floor with a muted thud, and Louis drops the severed head as it rolls and drools fresh blood onto the clean tiled floor. The same expression is plastered on Stan's face -horrified and shocked- even as it may not necessarily be attached. It's when Louis regains consciousness does he scream at the top of his lungs.
• ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ •
"Nobody knows why this happened, or how it happened, but police are investigating the crime scene vigilantly. The only witnesses found were the neighbors close by who'd reportedly heard several screams coming from inside the house at the time before police arrived at the scene of the crime. I have a witness with me here. Say, what did you hear?"
"I just walking my dog past the house when... uhm... it sounded like someone screaming bloody murder.... but that wasn't the scary part. The scary part was how silent everything went afterwards."
"Did anybody come out of the house afterwards?"
"No. I didn't see anybody... then again, I had my back turned for a few seconds while I called 9-1-1."
"Thank-you. Well, it seems the Grimm behind this case has yet to be discovered. Anybody found suspicious should be reported immediately. Anybody found hiding the alleged murderer shall also be reported immediately..."
• ~ • ~ • ~ • ~ •
Louis blows his nose into the seventeenth tissue that afternoon, severly traumatized beyond his wildest imagination. He crumples the tissue into a wrinkled ball and sluggishly dumps it into the trash bin beside him, heedless of the several other snot balls littering around the bin.
"So, you just... ran out the house then?" asks his Vet Clinic boss, Mr. Cowell.
Louis nods, whimpering.
"Did anybody see you?"
"I, uh..." Louis shrugs, removing another tissue from the nearly-empty box, "I don't.... I don't know." He trumpet-blows right into the tissue, repeating the same routine by dropping it into the bin.
"Louis, you're missing your eyes."
Louis blinks up at him with a loud sob. "What?"
"Your eyes. They've soaked your face, and you're ignoring them."
"Oh." Louis wipes his pasty, tear-stained face and rubs his eyes, discarding some worn-out eyelashes in the process. His face still feels sticky and hot. Then again, his mind won't stop reeling with the stucco of pictures from his best friend's blood and severed head.
On that note, Louis sobs again. He doesn't even understand why- he... He hasn't even registered precisely what just happened two hours ago. He just came bolting to the Vet's office because, well, his parents would be no help -they'd just turn him in!- and when he saw Mr. Cowell, it just all came flooding out. Still, even after now, his boss hasn't been hard on him once. It's almost like... he understands why, he...
Louis turns to look at Mr. Cowell suspiciously as his boss washes his hands from picking up the missed snot balls of Louis' and tossing them into their rightful home in the bin. Mr. Cowell seems to be aware of Louis' gaze and smiles at him, twisting off the faucets and sauntering over to his saddened employee. He kneels down in front of him, and it's then Louis realizes.... this isn't any ordinary Veterinarian.
"Louis," he begins, his voice naturally gruff and solemn, "I've known you for about a year, and in that year I've realized something you probably haven't... and I think it's time I told you why exactly you incessantly attract males and... receive information that people normally don't get out of the blue."
"And why I rip their head off if they try to kiss me?" Louis asks bitterly.
Mr. Cowell sighs. "It's all in your nature, Louis. That's all I can say." He stands, staring down at Louis and offers him a calloused hand. "Well then, I can't have you sitting in my office where guests can simply stroll in whenever, can I?"
Louis hesitantly shakes his head, puzzled at the statement and what he meant exactly, but regardless accepts his boss's hand and is tugged onto his feets.
Mr. Cowell leads Louis into a secret entrance behind... a bookcase. Of course. Louis watches as Mr. Cowell reaches through the books, seeking around until a tiny click can be heard and entire bookcase shudders open, revealing a secret tunnel that offers delicious mysteries and a dark setting... that is until articifial torches light up the walls, flaming up one after the other. They enter, and Louis whirls around-startled-when the bookcase automatically clamps shut.
The journey through isn't very long. They eventually make it to a small area that's similar to Mr. Cowell's office, except there's a change in atmosphere. Perhaps it's the stale, dusty air, or perhaps it's the overwheming number of papers and books piling the floor and desks... or perhaps it's the frighteing photographic pictures of demonic faces taped to the walls, each with different red marker wording on them; names, probably identifying who is who.
Louis' scared, that's for sure, but he's not as scared as he is... intrigued.
"So, Louis," Mr. Cowell says, "ever heard of a Deviant?"